


In and Out of Control

by mickeym



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-25
Updated: 2003-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris jokes around and JC takes him up on it, but who's really calling the shots?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In and Out of Control

It started as a joke. Mouthing off, being funny. That was all it was meant to be, anyway, except—somewhere, at some point, it turned into more.

"You want to do what?" The look on JC's face would've been funny, except for the dark heat burning from his eyes. It made Chris shiver. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Suck you. Off. Y'know, blowjob?"

"I know what sucking me off means, Chris." Those hot eyes raked down him and back up and Chris wondered what the hell he was thinking. What he'd been drinking. Except he was stone-cold sober. JC pursed his lips. "Okay."

He blinked. "Just like that?"

"Unless you wanted—to beg?" JC smirked at him and raised an eyebrow, and Chris blinked again.

"Uh—"

"Teasing, man!" Just like that the predator disappeared, and JC's eyes crinkled up. "Well, about the begging. But—the sucking? Not so much. If you wanna—we can discuss it."

"Hell, yes." Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Wow. It'd been a while since he was…nervous about something like this. Maybe 'cos JC meant more to him than the one-offs he'd had in the past? _Gee, fucking insightful, Kirkpatrick_. "Um, here?"

"No better place," JC said softly, and when Chris looked again, the heat was back. He made sure the door was locked, then followed JC into the living room of his suite.

~~~~~~

For one second only, when they stood there in front of the sofa, Chris felt awkward. A thousand questions flitted through his mind, with the top three being, _What am I doing? Will this fuck things up with us? Could this fuck things up with the group?_ Then JC looked at him, blue eyes shining electric and hot at him, and he thought maybe none of those mattered so much.

Chris knelt down and leaned in, nuzzled at JC's groin. He could feel heat and hard flesh behind the fabric and shivered at the thought of taking JC in his mouth, of sucking and licking. He reached up to untie the drawstring on JC's pants and JC smacked at his hand. Not hard, but-- "What the hell?"

"I said we'd discuss it. I didn't say what that meant, did I?" JC raised an eyebrow at him and Chris blinked, shook his head. JC smiled and sat down on the sofa, spread his legs wide. Chris swallowed hard at the way the fabric pulled over his crotch, highlighting the growing erection.

"Um, C--"

"C'mere, Chris. Right here." He gestured to the space between his legs and smiled when Chris frowned, then crept forward.

_Wow, who died and left him boss?_ But--yeah. The idea of JC directing this, controlling it was--pretty damn hot, when he got right down to it.

JC outlined his erection slowly, palming himself through the fabric. Chris watched as it grew in length, in thickness; he would swear he could see it throbbing behind the sweats JC had on.

"C--"

"You wanna touch?" The voice that could mesmerize thousands of teens was working its mojo on Chris, too, apparently; he felt himself nod before he realized he was answering. "Want to undo my pants...pull my dick out and... what, Chris? What d'you want to do then?"

"Lick it," he heard himself say, hoarsely. "Want to lick you."

"Licking's good," JC sighed, stroking himself through the cloth. Chris wondered how freaky it made him to be jealous of the man's hand -- and his sweats. "From the tip down to my balls? And then--lick my balls? And back up?" He stroked again and Chris shuddered, cleared his throat before he could answer.

"Y-yeah. And--behind your balls, back up again.  Lick the tip. God, C." He shuddered and leaned forward, his hands on the sofa to either side of JC's knees. "Please, dude. Lemme--"

"Not yet." JC reached out and touched Chris' mouth and it was all he could do not to snap at that single finger; his belly felt twisted up and tight, his dick was screaming for some stimulation, friction, anything. "What else would you do, hmm? You've licked me...you gonna suck me?"

"Haven't licked you yet," Chris mumbled, shivering. He clutched at the sofa a little harder, opened his mouth enough for the tip of JC's finger to slip inside. Eyes closed, mind drifting in fantasy, he could imagine it was JC's cock, warm and salty, hard and throbbing against his lips, his tongue. He sucked, then harder, moving his head to slide downward. JC's soft sound -- a cross between a moan and a chuckle -- stopped him.

"You haven't told me what you're going to do next, either." JC slid his finger from Chris' mouth, brought it to his own mouth and licked at it. Chris growled softly.

"I'd settle for throwing you to the floor and fucking your brains out," he snarled in a low voice. JC laughed and sucked his finger into his mouth. Chris tried to remember how to breathe at the same time he tried to remember his part in this conversation. Or whatever it was. "But, um. Licked you... want to suck you, now. Stroke once down your cock, fingers tight around you, then take you in my mouth. Suck on you -- bet you're wet, huh? Lap it up, then swallow you down. I can deepthroat...I could take you."

JC smiled, a sleepy, lazy smile that ratcheted the tension inside Chris up another three notches. "You think so, huh?" He drew his fingers down his chest, down his belly, and Chris' breath hitched inside his chest. Christ, it was hard to breathe. When JC reached for his waistband and pushed at his sweats, something coiled hard and tight deep inside Chris' belly, then spread out through him in a rush of lust and heat.  "Touch me," JC said softly, pushing his sweats down and reaching for one of Chris' hands. He twined their fingers and wrapped them around himself. "Stroke my dick..."

"Jesus, fuck--" He'd touched a lot of dicks in his life, but--God. "Want to taste you, C..." he swallowed hard. "Please."

"In a minute." JC's eyes were closed, and Chris shivered at the lust written on his face, written on his entire body, in the long, loose sprawl and the tension in his thighs, in his hands. He gripped JC's cock tighter, just a little, and smiled when JC thrust gently upward. Another thrust, then another, and Chris was ready to reach for his own dick. He shifted, just a little, and JC's eyes flew open. "No. No. Not yet."

He didn't have to listen; it wasn't like--that. But the idea of going along with it was strangely compelling, and it shot heat all through him, blood burning in his veins. He licked his lips. "Lemme lick you, please."

"Just lick. Lick the tip, taste me--" JC shuddered when Chris lapped at the crown, teasing his tongue over and around, licking up the dampness smeared there. "God--"

"Umm..." Chris licked again, then hummed against JC's dick when he twitched. He did it again, letting the ragged flow of sound and breath trickle through him, sparking goosebumps up and down his arms and the back of his neck. JC's free hand stroked over Chris' head, fingers winding into the short hair. Not for the first time, Chris regretted getting rid of the braids, of the longer hair he'd worn for so long. He fitted his mouth around the head of JC's cock and inhaled and JC yanked hard on the hair he'd twined his fingers through. Chris pulled off and glared. "*_Fuck_*, C--!"

"I didn't say you could suck yet." JC's face was flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded, but sparking blue fire at Chris. He tightened his grip fractionally and Chris winced. "Did I?"

"No," he said softly, meeting JC's eyes. "You didn't. I--can I? Please--"

JC relaxed his hold then and leaned back further, slouching a bit until his cock was pushed up, nearly brushing Chris' chin. He held Chris' eyes with his and licked his lips. "Yeah, baby. Suck me." He tugged Chris' hair again, not quite as hard, but hard enough that Chris' dick throbbed, eager for more. "Wanna come down your throat, man."

And god, yes, he wanted that, too. Wanted to make JC come, wanted to feel him, taste him, swallow him down. Chris curled his free hand into the soft material of JC's sweats and pushed his hand -- their hands -- down and away, then leaned in, shivering when JC tightened his fingers again, giving the guise of guiding him. Fuck, maybe he was. Whatever, it was fucking hot, licking and sucking, taking JC into his mouth, down his throat in increments, feeling the hard length of velvety soft flesh nudge him wide open, slide slickly into him.  _It's like fucking_, he thought, breathing and swallowing, feeling JC shudder, thighs tense and tight. _He's fucking me, sliding in and out of me, going deeper, opening me. Ass, throat, it's the same...he's inside me. A part of me._

It didn't take much to lose himself in what he was doing. Chris loved dick, loved sucking it, loved the taste, the texture against his tongue. JC was salty, and a little bitter, with an underlying hint of sweetness. He guided Chris' head slowly, at first, then pulled off, fingers loosening a bit at a time until he let go completely and slouched back. Chris reached up and rubbed JC's belly, just under his navel, fingers ruffling and teasing the light trail of hair there. JC moaned and arched upward, fucking gently into Chris' mouth, then faster, harder, until Chris was gripping at the sofa cushions and holding still, letting JC use him as he would.

Each thrust got a little rougher, a little harder, pushing against the back of his throat until he had to breathe to control his gag reflex.  Above him and around him were the sounds of JC's pleasure--soft grunts, sighs, moans. Chris had to remind himself and his dick that he'd get some too, just hold on. But fuck, it was difficult, JC making total sex noises, fingers in his hair again, tugging and pulling, his dick hot and swollen in Chris' mouth, leaking precome in slick, bitter droplets. Then there came a moment when JC thrust in hard, crying out something wordless, a long, low melody of sounds and pitches, and Chris couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move, could just kneel there, swallowing fast and hard, mouth working almost frantically to take each thick spurt.

JC thrust again, once more, deep and hard, and Chris' vision went gray for a minute, his air totally cut off for the last bit of JC's pleasure. Then JC was pulling out, gasping, and Chris could breathe again, could feel every throb of his body in two-four time, could see each pulse painted against the backs of his eyelids in red and black.

It took him a minute to focus on JC's face, on his voice, on the words he could see were forming even if he wasn't able to understand them yet.

"—oh…oh, god…my god, Chris—"

"Fuck," he hissed, surging up, his knees twinging a protest he ignored. JC looked startled for a moment, then grabbed for him, fingers working at the fastenings for Chris' jeans. "Jesus Christ, C—" He didn't finish the sentence, instead gave in to the need thrumming through him to lick at JC's mouth, to take it in a wet, deep kiss, letting JC taste the bit of himself still lingering on Chris' tongue. He bit at JC's mouth, at his tongue and lips, before pulling back to yank JC's sweats the rest of the way down. "Wanna fuck you, so bad," he muttered, tossing the fabric.

JC made an inarticulate growl and spread his legs wide, eyes gone dark and hot again. He looked so wanton, spread there on the couch, Chris was sure his blood was literally boiling within his veins, he felt so hot.

"Condoms?" He wanted to stroke himself, but was afraid to. Afraid he might not last to get inside JC. It'd been too long and he was way too turned on, now.

"Dop kit, in the bathroom," JC pulled his shirt up and off then lay back, pinching his nipples. Chris growled and sprinted – as best he could, with his dick hard between his legs – into the bathroom. He grabbed two, and the tube of gel, and had one open before he got back to JC. Who was lying there, legs open, one up, resting against the back of the couch. His nipples were red and erect, and as Chris watched he trailed his fingers over them, tugging lightly, twisting and pulling. Chris shuddered and rolled the condom over himself, hands shaking when he tried to open the gel.

"They're lubed, dude. Just get over here." JC sucked two fingers into his mouth, then reached between his legs. Chris squeezed his eyes shut and circled himself, hoping he wouldn't come just from watching JC finger himself.

"You're—" He knelt down on the couch and touched, felt soft, warm skin against his fingers. JC moaned and twisted, and Chris' finger skittered over slick, soft resistance. He pressed gently and JC moaned again. "Jesus fuck, man." His dick throbbed and to hell with fingers; JC wanted it, he wanted it, and that was that. He shifted his weight and JC brought his legs up, balanced them on Chris' shoulders. It only took a second to line himself up and press, slowly, then more forcefully, and with a grunt and a shudder JC opened for him and Chris slid inside in a long, steady thrust.

Heat twisted through him, redhot and alive, bubbling in his veins, snaking through every cell. He rocked in and JC met him, met each thrust, tightening and loosening around him rhythmically. Chris was pretty sure his eyes rolled back in his head at one point, when JC snapped his hips upward, driving him deeper. The couch was too narrow to get a good rhythm going like this, and he wanted it harder, faster, needed to _fuck_. They could go slower, easier, whatever, later. Again. But for now—

"Need faster," he grunted, shifting again. JC nodded, rolling his hips upward. "Bend, Christ—" And he slid out, pushing at the backs of JC's thighs. A hard thrust seated him again and JC was nearly bent in half, but oh, god, it was good at this angle. Hot, tight, and he could go so fast, so hard. He felt each shiver that ran through JC; felt it echoed in his body, electricity zinging through him, coiling into a hot, glowing knot at the base of his spine. "Stroke yourself—" and he gripped JC's legs harder, watched the skin beneath his fingers pressed white and flat, and wondered if he would leave bruises. "Can you—god—"

"Yeah," JC panted, hand working his dick. He used his other to twist and pull on his nipples again, and Chris wanted to do that, felt his fingers twitch. "Close—"

"Come on—" It was hard to breathe; he couldn't pull enough air in. So close. His skin tingled and when he closed his eyes, he could see white streaks, could feel it, so close, just there, and oh, god, he wanted to come. Wanted to slam home, bury himself, and explode.

"Do it—" JC growled, twisting upward toward him. "Chris, god," then he arched hard with a low cry that made Chris grip him tighter. He slammed home once more, felt his orgasm boil up through him and spill outward, hot pulses that he saw behind closed eyelids as redgoldhot, fading into black when his breathing kicked back in.

When he opened his eyes again, fingers still gripping JC tightly, everything looked hazy, like he was looking through a mist or a fog. JC grinned up at him and Chris smiled stupidly. "Jesus."

"Yeah." A gentle tug pulled him down toward JC, but he held back, body stiff.

"No, dude. Too heavy—"

"Shut up and snuggle, man."

JC was warm – hot, almost – and smelled like sex and sweat. Chris decided he kind of liked being told what to do, and relaxed against him. "Next time, I call the shots," he said sleepily.

He thought he heard a soft snicker. "Sure, Chris. Whatever you say."

~fin~

 


End file.
